Today is yesterday's tomorrow
by Lakritzwolf
Summary: Choices we make today will influence tomorrow, but no choice or action we ever take will change yesterday. You can not undo your deeds… but you can change today what will happen tomorrow, even in the face of death. SparrowSwann because birds must fly free
1. Yesterday

Alternate ending of DMC, alternating the plot of AWE. Pairing is the Sparrow and the Swan, as if there could be any other. They should have thrown that stupid Legolas over board right in the first film. clears throat . I don't own Pirates, but if I did... boy... And yes, I do have a poster of Jack Sparrow in my flat. Occasionally I rip off my top and roll around on the ground before it.

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**_Yesterday_**

"I'm not sorry, Jack."

Elizabeth was choking on her last words even if she had already said them. It _was_ after him, not the ship. There _was_ no other way for them to save themselves. And she…  
She was not sorry_. She was not sorry._

And his word… his last word was lashing at her like a whip, leaving a fiery brand on her soul if not her body.

It was taunting her like the flick of a hand, daring her to cross the line drawn before her into the sand.

It was insulting her in its casualty, stirring up a rage inside her that she was afraid of.

It was tempting her. It was tempting her like the forbidden fruit of Eden, a fruit which she had just about tasted in all its bitter sweetness.

And Elizabeth made a mistake. She turned around.

He just opened his eyes as she did so. He spotted her, and for a second, his eyes were an open window into his soul. For no more than a heartbeat, he hid nothing from her, none of his feeling, and Elizabeth felt her heart break that precise moment with a tiny, irrevocable crack. Then he smashed a door into her face behind those glowing, unfathomable eyes and grinned. "Fancy that, darling, that the last thing I'll ever feel will be yer lips on mine."  
Then he closed his eyes again and Elizabeth felt frozen on the spot. The ship rocked gently on the waves that no wind had stirred up.  
"Ye should leave the sinking ship, love", Jack muttered. "About now would be the best idea, I guess."

Elizabeth turned around again, but felt she couldn't move. The image of his eyes, for just this one tiny moment in time being painfully, brutally honest, had burned itself into her soul. A shudder went through the ship and she had to take a step to keep her balance. She could hear the water sloshing against the hull, yet still there was no wind.

"Elizabeth…" she heard Jack's voice. "Go. Now."  
"No." She turned around again and walked back to the mast. "No."  
"Lizzie…" He stared at her with clenched jaws and narrowed eyes. "Ye stupid bitch, get the hell out of here."  
"No", she said as she started fidgeting with the lock that shackled him to the mast, her heart racing in her chest, threatening to jump out of her throat any moment. "No, I can't do this to you!"

The lock sprang open with a click and Jack took a step forward, rubbing his wrist with the other hand. He looked around and took a slow, deep breath as he unsheathed his sabre. "Ye've already done it", he said tonelessly and Elizabeth turned around and followed his gaze towards the railing. Wood splintered under the impact of the huge, slimy tentacles and the ship rocked again.

Elizabeth felt her innards turn to ice at the sight of the fangs that came into view as the creature pulled itself up and teeth as long as a man's arm snapped at them, revealing the straight pathway to hell. Involuntarily she took a step closer to Jack as the creature screamed at them, and a strange feeling of tranquillity and finality spread out in her as Jack slowly laid an arm around her shoulder.

"What do we do now?", she whispered and Jack let go of her to pick up his hat.

"Now", he said, flashing her a sad grin. "Now we die."


	2. Dawn

_**Dawn**_

She was voiceless, so she could not scream, there was no way to release the agony that filled her body like liquid fills a glass. Her body made of ice, her blood running through her veins like fire, burning each other and both burning her soul.

And then there was the darkness. It engulfed her, and she had no time to think, no time to be relieved it was finally over. But she welcomed it like a long lost friend.

And then the darkness turned into searing, painful light.

Elizabeth opened her eyes with a gasp of pain.  
The bright and harsh light was burning in her eyes, and she had no way to shield herself from it. Only when there was suddenly a fleck of shade above her eyes did she realise that it was a hand, and that the hand belonged to her. So she had a body... still... or again?  
Painfully slow and agonizingly heavy, but it was a body, and with the feeling of having arms and legs again, the feeling won her more control. She was lying on her back, on a hard and even surface.

After a few deep and heavy breaths she managed to prop her upper body up on one arm to look around. Yet there was nothing. Under her was the white, hard baked ground, above her a bright, lightless blue sky, centred by a burning, merciless and giant sun. Apart from that, there was nothing but endless horizon around her. Still feeling as if her bones were cast of lead, she sat up with a groan.

More impressions reached her brain. The heat. It was baking hot and only when she looked around again she saw her legs outstretched before her. Slowly, she let her eyes wander across her body and where she could not look, she used her newly-won hands. She was naked. Above her, the sun was mercilessly burning and she had not a single thread to cover her body. Somehow, the thought of getting burned to the bones made her able to stand up again.

There must be something else here. Something. Anything.

So she looked around, decided that one direction was as good as any other, and began to walk. The sun burned on her back as she did so and she did not have to walk for long when she could feel the skin redden on her back and shoulders. But nothing had changed around her, so she walked on, gritting her teeth. She had no feeling about how much time had passed. The sun did not change, if it was a sun at all, and if it was, then it was a sun unlike the one she used to know. She walked without being able to judge neither time nor distance, feeling the skin on her back begin to tighten across her flesh. Then she saw the tracks.

Faint outlines of feet in the ground before her, leading away from her into the infinity that lay before her. She stared at them for a while, then slowly sank down to her knees with a sob. Those were her own tracks. She had walked in a circle. Hiding her face in her hand she wailed like a child, knowing herself lost and forsaken, damned to burn under this cursed sun for all eternity. But as she took a breath between two sobs, she heard the noise. A faint scrabbling, as if made by claws. Tiny claws. Then a movement at the edge of her vision made her turn her head.

A tiny white crab was sitting there, clicking its claws and, as it almost seemed, watching her. Elizabeth blinked, and the crab scuttled off.

But this being the first thing at all, living or not, that she had seen here apart from herself, she got up again and followed it. She had to grit her teeth while walking, the soles of her feet were chafed and hurting, but suddenly she only had that one thought: To follow that little creature, for whatever it might mean, it must have come from somewhere and maybe following it would lead her there. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just away from here. Wherever that was.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

Trying to ignore the glaring light blinding his eyes, Jack slowly laboured to his feet and looked around. He had heard of Jones' locker, but no stories could compare themselves to this desolate, terrifying reality.

The pain still lingered in his body, echoing in his limbs like the last remnants of a very bad hangover, yet when he tried to remember, he felt he could not. Not much, at least. He remembered the fangs of the beast, the scream and the acidic, stinging, stinking goo it had spat at him, he remembered the sound the teeth had made... but apart from that, he did only remember the pain until he had opened his eyes again.

At least that meant it had been over quickly. It was distressing to think of himself having to suffer unduly long, but he probably hadn't. That was behind him, then. Now as to what lay before him... There was no other way than to take things as they would come his way, he thought, straightened his hat, turned around and took a vigorous step only to run into a wall of wood. Cursing and clutching his nose, he slowly looked up and dropped his hand in sheer delight.

A ship. The Pearl. The Black Pearl, sitting before him on the hard baked sand, looking a little worse for wear maybe, but then, he probably did, as well. He gently ran a hand across the boards as he walked along her hull, closing his fingers around the keel when he reached the bow. At least he wouldn't have to spend whole eternity alone and without a ship, then.

He nimbly climbed her hull and scrambled over the railing on deck and looked around. No shattered wood, no torn sails or rigging. She looked as if she had just been sitting in Tortuga's harbour for a quiet couple of nights. But then... Jack looked down at himself. Regarding what had happened to him, and that was being digested by a giant squid, he did look quite respectable, for a given value of respectable of course, him being a pirate and all. With a grin, he sauntered across the deck and took the helm. Then his grin died.

There was no sea. No water. No water to drink and no water to sail in, so whom was he fooling? He walked down on deck again and tied a rope to the railing with a grim face as he realised what the presence of the Pearl really meant: Having the Pearl here with him was _part of the torture._ He had his ship, his beloved ship, and could only watch her. Never would he hear again the sound of wind billowing the canvas, never more would he hear the creaking of wood and the sloshing of waves against her hull. And never more would she rock him to sleep at night, his lady love, and him her lover at her breast.

He checked the knot and abseiled himself down again, crouching down in the shadow of her hull. But even in the shadow he felt his thirst grow worse with every passing... heartbeat? Had he still a heart that was beating? If not, then he had a very clever illusion of one, and it even was capable of feeling pain with him looking at his beloved ship. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wood, but somehow, it was impossible not to think about water.

No time passed, and after an eternity, nothing continued to happen.

Jack's mind played dirty tricks on him, leading him to believe he heard waves and seagulls at one time or the inviting blubbering sound of a well at others. But whenever he turned his head into the direction of the noise, it died. There was nothing he could do but endure the thirst as his tongue stuck flakily to the roof of his mouth.  
He was dead already, so he couldn't die. He couldn't die of thirst or hunger, and so he would have to endure this. For eternity. Thirst for eternity... as if that wasn't quite enough... but for a sailor, and a pirate even...

He dropped his hat and stared up at the merciless, heartless, glaring sun. Not a breeze stirred the air.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

For god knows how many times he had wandered around his ship, feeling the need to do something, try something, flee, try and get away, but he could not bring himself to leave his ship. She was everything that was left to him, even if she only added to his suffering with her presence. He could not leave her.  
He finished his round, gently closing his hand around the keel, when he heard the noise. The tiny scrabbling of claws. He slowly looked down and saw the crab, a tiny white creature with strange, blue eyes. It clicked its claws and scuttled off, and Jack followed it with his gaze.

Something moved. In the hot, wafting, scintillating air, something moved. Slowly, narrowing his eyes, he took a few steps into the direction the crab had vanished and hesitated. Who was it? What was it? Was there anything at all? But the crab definitely was more than anything else that he had seen here so far, which was nothing, so it might just lead him anywhere...  
He took another few steps and then something caught his eyes. He slowly tilted his head, looked over his shoulder at his ship again, and took another few hesitating steps.

There was a line of... he took another step. Footprints. There were footprints.

He slowly knelt down. Dark footprints in the white, hard baked sand. He slowly extended a forefinger and touched one, but it did not vanish. Jack slowly narrowed his eyes, but they widened on their own accord when he lifted his finger again, looking at his fingertip covered in a bright, red liquid.

Blood. These footprints were made of blood.

He straightened up again and looked into the direction the footprints headed and then he could see it: A figure. A human figure, doubled over, dragging itself forward laboriously and obviously in pain. Jack shot another glance over his shoulder but the Pearl hadn't moved, and with a muttered curse, he set off after it. Or him. Her... A woman. He stopped, but then hurried his steps. A female figure... a woman... and then it dawned on him that the reason why he was so sure at this distance that it was a woman was the fact that she was naked. He almost grinned, then he remembered the bloody footsteps. He hurried his steps even more, and suddenly, the woman stopped.

Jack saw her hunch her shoulders as he came nearer, and he slowed down until he stopped about six feet away from her. And only then it dawned on him who that must be as he saw the pale skin covered with angry, red blisters and the frazzled, blonde hair. "Elizabeth?" Or was he imagining things?

She froze. "Jack?", she said in a tiny voice and slowly turned around, making Jack swallow at her appearance. Not at her nudity, he had seen more than enough women without their clothing, intentionally and unintentionally. It was her face that made him swallow. It was burned like her back, the skin peeling off her nose, and in her eyes stood, beside pain and desolation, suddenly panic. "Jack, oh god..." she gasped and hugged herself, doubling over. "God, no... nonono!"  
"Lizzie...? Am I that far gone to imagine you naked in..."  
"Go away!", she screamed, falling down to her knees. "Go away! I don't believe in you! Go away!"  
"Believe...?" _What the heck..._ and then it dawned on him. "Lizzie, I'm no illusion, I'm no hallucination, I'm here..."  
She looked up and stared at him as if he was about to strangle her, the hunched herself even more and sobbed.  
"Lizzie...?"  
"No, Jack, go away! Don't look at me, I beg you! Go away! Don't look at me!"  
Jack faltered. She was hugging herself and wailed like a child, sobbing the words nonono over and over again, her face a grimace of pain and... shamed embarrassment? He pursed his lips, then he rolled his eyes and with a sigh, shrugged of his coat. He was just too good for this world... even if it was already the next.

He knelt down beside her, making her cringe and cower even more, then he gently and carefully placed his coat on her shoulder, almost afraid she would burst like a soap bubble if he touched her too carelessly. He quickly got up again and took three steps back, watching her pull the coat tight around her shoulders. "Well, seems like ye have been at the arse's end of the bargain, Lizzie", he said, cursing himself for it the same moment she stared up at him out of desolate eyes. He tried a grin, failed and dropped his arms. "The Pearl's here, as well. Ye can come with me... to se... maybe there's some shirts going spare..."

_If there's one thing going spare ye stupid bird brain it's you with having a naked woman around for the rest of eternity. One who'll gladly kill ye over again if ye so much as give her a queer look. _

With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he watched her scramble to her feet.

She tried to bring herself under control again, that much was clear. She tried to straighten up a bit and winced as the coarse fabric of the coat chafed across her back and shoulders, yet she hugged it tight around her body, slowly setting one foot in front of the other as she followed him.

Feeling the need to display a cheerful mood, Jack sauntered along, only to realise after a couple of yards that she didn't keep up. He turned around and saw her grit her teeth with every limping step, then he remembered the bloody footsteps again. She stopped as soon as she realised he had stopped, and both stared at each other for a long while, the stillness around them as heavy and tangible as the earth of a grave... which, in a way, it was.

With a sigh, Jack walked resolutely over to her, ignored her cringe and the words of protest she was about to mouth and swept her up into his arms. "Can't have ye limping after me, it'll take forever. Not that we would run out of time, but I want to get back into the shade again."  
"Shade?"  
"Aye, the Pearl."

The small speck at the horizon slowly grew larger and took on the forms of a ship, and it almost looked as if she was afloat after all with the scintillating, wafting air creating the illusion of water at the horizon.

"Jack?" Elizabeth asked after a while in a small voice.  
"What is it, luv?"  
"Thank you. Somehow, it seems that you are always around to rescue me." Then she let her head drop against his shoulder and Jack realised that by the way she had pronounced the word 'you' in her sentence, it highly implied her displeasure at the noticeable absence of someone else who should have done the rescuing, instead. He couldn't help but grin. It was a small, tiny grin, but a grin nontheless. "Anytime, luv."  
"Jack, I'm sorry."  
"About what?"  
"About killing you."

"Oh... well, there's two things I can say to that. One is: Nothing to be done about it and the second: Even if ye pushed me in, ye fell right after me. And looking at ye, it seems that while I might stand in the pit of shit up to my armpits, ye're decidedly smaller, luv. So I guess we could call it a draw."  
"Could we?"  
"With a bit of goodwill on my side." He flashed her an annoying, impish grin.

"Jack, can you ever forgive me?"  
His grin died and a corner of his mouth twitched. "I don't know. Ever is a long time, but then, forever is precisely what is available to us. I might do, and even if it only be from sheer boredom."  
They both stared at each other for a while, the Elizabeth let her head drop against his shoulder again. "It serves me right", she said under her breath.  
"I'm glad you said that and not me, luv", Jack replied, but he didn't feel like smiling.

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Credit:  
The phrase "…nothing continued to happen" is borrowed from either Terry Prattchet or Douglas Adams, I don't know who of them used is first. It is not mine, sadly enough.


	3. Noon

_**Noon**_

Jack sat Elizabeth gently down in the shadow of the Pearl and she immediately doubled over, hugging her knees to her chest, burying her face in her arms slung around her legs. "Don't look at me, Jack", she whispered again. Jack stared down at her for a second, but then, with a shrug and a mental wrench, turned away and reached for the rope.

Rummaging around in various chests, crates and wardrobes, he found a shirt and a vest, a pair of trousers and even a pair of shoes, although, he thought wryly, remembering the bloody footsteps, she might not need those quite yet. But what he also found was a small chest with medical supplies, and among these a small tin containing a white, greasy substance with a pleasant herbal smell. He dimly remembered having applied stuff like that to rope burns, so it might be worth to try it out on blisters caused by the sun.

He walked over to the railing and dropped down the clothes, minus the shoes. "Dress yerself, luv", he said and noisily walked below deck. Now why had he done that, he wondered, looking around in the dark hull. Due to the heat outside, the air in here was nigh unbreathable; hot, stuffy, slightly moist and all in all, felt as if you could cut it into pieces and carry it outside.

Why indeed. Decency. What a strange word to be thought in one sentence with his own name. Or was it? He sat down on the stairs, contemplating the little tin of salve in his hands. Fact was, he pitied her. Even if she _was_ right and it _did_ serve her right to be here, even if she _had_ brought it on herself, he felt he pitied her.

He could well remember all those little teasing and mocking remarks, all those little nasty words, gestures and rolling eyes. Back and forth, like a duel that was fought with tongues rather than swords. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it, quite the contrary. But she hadn't, and now, being naked in his presence had to be the ultimate humiliation to her. And that was why her pitied her.

He turned the tin over in his hands. He would not have minded seeing her in pain. _Not much at least._

He would not have minded seeing her punished for her deeds. Neither would he have minded breaking through her thorny defences one time, making her succumb to his will and coaxing all those little sounds of pleasure out of those finely carved lips that women were capable of in the right hands... making her want him. Despite herself. He was good at that. But the usual grin at this train of thought refused to show up.

He would gladly have listened to her voice beg for mercy, her naked body under his. But having her beg for mercy like that... no, whatever he had wished for and whatever he thought was fitting punishment... this kind of humiliation was nothing he wanted. Not at all.

And that was why he was suddenly decency in person. Because the only thing he could do to take the edge of a punishment like that was to pretend nothing had ever happened. No witty remarks, no smirks, no grins and no sideway glances. That was why he had noisily walked below deck, to let her know he would not spy on her and she could dress herself without shame. He stared at the tin in his hands and shrugged, judging the amount of time that had passed long enough to dress yourself. He stomped up the stairs and walked along the deck towards the railing with heavy steps. He did not look down. "Are ye dressed?"

"I am", he heard her small voice coming from below. He shook his head, grabbed the rope and let himself slide down.

She didn't look at him and still hugged her arms to her chest as if all the clothing in the world wouldn't be able to protect her from his stare... which was true, in a way. He had seen everything there ever was to see, and even had he been able and wanted to, for her sake, he could not forget. Hesitatingly, he held out the tin to her. "This might help your skin", he muttered, and when she took it, turned hastily around and walked away, around the ship and back into the burning sun, leaving the shadow to her alone. _Stupid, touchy scallywag._

Closing one eye, he squinted up at the sun, but it had, as far as he could judge, not changed its position at all. It just hung there, refusing to even move an inch in the sky, thus shattering the last hope he had of it eventually going down. Of darkness. Or at least, cooler air. Heck, a night could even mean morning dew... water... ever if it were only a few tiny drops... He ran a finger across his lips. They felt like the old and cracked bark of an ancient tree and his mouth and tongue were so dry that licking his lips brought no relief any more.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wood behind him when he heard soft steps coming around the hull.  
"Jack?"  
"Aye?" He opened one eye and squinted up at her.  
She avoided his eyes. "Can you help me?"  
Jack laboured himself up again. "What is it?"  
She looked down at her feet. "I can't reach my back...", she said in a meek and tiny voice and Jack slowly shook his head. Not because of her plea. Because of what had suddenly become of her. All her anger, her spirit, her life and her strength were gone, evaporated under the merciless sun of the Locker.

Without looking at him, she handed him the tin and turned around, slowly opening her shirt and dropping it down her back. Then she crossed her arms in front of her chest and hunched her shoulders. Seeing her, Jack undid his belt with a jerky, angry movement, tossed it down and rid himself of his own shirt which he flung down beside her so she could see it.  
"See?", he said more brightly than he felt. "Now we're both wearing no shirt. Nothing to be ashamed of."  
He saw her swallow, but her voice, when she answered, seemed to hold a tiny smile.  
"Thanks, Jack."  
"It's _Captain_ Jack", he muttered, trying to sound angry yet failing utterly. He watched her back, covered in red blisters, the skin peeling of her flesh in long, white flakes. The look of it alone made him wince in sympathy.

He rubbed some of the grease onto his hands and touched her very, very carefully, yet still he heard the intake of her breath as a sharp hiss.  
"Sorry", he murmured.  
"It's all right."  
As gently as he could, he spread the salve on the skin of her back, feeling her muscles slowly relax under his hands. Yet if this was because of the relief from the pain or the relief from the strain that her nakedness caused her he didn't know. He stepped back, wiping his hands on his trousers. "All done."  
She hastily pulled up her shirt and buttoned it up, then she slowly turned around and for the first time, looked up at him. "Thanks", she said again, a small smile flickering across her face.  
"Anytime, luv", he said, not knowing what else to say.

They both looked at each other silently, both not knowing what to say, then Elizabeth shrugged and walked around the hull again. With a sigh, Jack gathered up his shirt and belt.

"Do ye mind if I join ye in the shade?", he asked her as he rounded the hull, buckling his belt again. She was sitting with her back against the hull and looked up as he spoke to her, then shook her head. Wordlessly, he sank down beside her. "Thrice cursed god damned heat", he muttered, licking his lips again without relief.

They both stared ahead, watching the scintillating air dance across the horizon in an illusion of a sea that was forever lost to them.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

They erected a small shelter of some sorts on deck of the Pearl, a lean-to made of some pieces of wood and a little bit of spare canvas, to keep the sun out. There they now lingered, waiting for eternity to pass by.

To pass the time that didn't pass, they had started to talk at one point. Elizabeth had told Jack of her childhood in England, of all the things she could remember, neither knowing nor caring if Jack ever wanted to know how her second lap dog had come to die or what his name had been.  
Jack told her unbelievable stories of adventures and monsters, all clearly made up, as clearly as she knew he didn't want to talk at all about his past and childhood. Yet listening to his ramblings, she could, occasionally, for a tiny amount of time, forget where she was when he managed to make her laugh.

They both realised after a while that they always talked about 'back there' rather than 'back then'. 'Back then' would imply what they already knew, that it was lost and over, as irrevocably behind them as the childhood she talked about and he so laboriously avoided. 'Back there', instead, carried the tiniest flicker of imagination that it was not over but just far, far away, and thus suggested the tiniest flicker of hope, or at least something like it, that there ever could be a way back.

Back there. When they both had still been alive.

There was no gauge that could help them measure the amount of time that had passed, no movement of the sun, no change of light around them. There was only the glaring, burning sun and they could have been here for a year or for an hour for all they knew. Yet did it make a difference? A year or an hour are both nothing in the face of eternity.

At one point, Jack had to stop speaking. His voice had become more and more laborious until it had been no more than a dry, rasping whisper. His lips were now so dry that they cracked and bled whenever he moved them and his tongue was so leathery and sticky that occasionally he just couldn't move it any more.

And always were there these sounds of water. Rain sloshing against the wood of the ship. A river. A well. And all of these were sounds that Elizabeth could not hear.

Elizabeth was more worried than she would admit. Jack was beginning to disintegrate before her very eyes, slowly succumbing to his delusions of water that made the torture of his thirst worse beyond measure. Ever so often, he would suddenly jump up because he heard something, run around, holding out his arms, staring at the sky, and after a while would look at her in desperation. She could only shake her head then, and he would resign and drop back down beside her again.

She didn't understand it. They were dead, so there was no way they could technically feel hunger or thirst. But then, technically, a dead body could not suffer sun burns. And watching Jack she had to admit that there could be hardly any torture more cruel than depriving a sailor of every single drop of water. She could see him crumbling to dust before her eyes. Slowly, with each passing moment, he was slipping away from her. Sometimes he would just sit there, still as a stone, head cocked as if listening intensely, only to silently collapse after a while, covering his face with his hands.

And sometimes, as right now, he writhed himself in agony, rolling around on the ground, wailing and screaming for mercy until he would pass out from the sheer exhaustion.

Watching him, Elizabeth felt tears sting in her eyes. It wasn't fair. It had been her fault alone that he was here, and here he did suffer beyond any means to ease it while she didn't. She herself felt neither the thirst nor the heat.

He had lost consciousness again. Swallowing her tears, Elizabeth crawled over to him to drag his lifeless form back into the shade. It wasn't fair.

Oh yes, he had made her livid, had driven her absolutely mad with his arrogance and oh-so witty remarks, and had, with his damn enticing eyes, made her feel despite herself an irresistible pull towards him. She despised him. But whenever he smiled at her, or even looked at her that special, knowing, annoying yet irresistible way, he was suddenly the pole and she the needle of a compass, drawn to him in a manner she had no means to resist.

That was what had annoyed her most. All her strength of will and stubbornness and resistance threatened to crumble to dust in the single moment she accidentally looked into his eyes. He made her want him.

And he didn't even have to do anything! Just with his sheer being, him being the annoying, impertinent, invincible, irresistible, damn him, handsome Captain Jack Sparrow, he made her want him. And that was why she despised him so, Because he made her weak. And now, watching him, she realised that him being weak was nothing she would ever have cared to see. She leaned forward and brushed a few hairs from his face.

Was he grinning? She leaned closer and felt a shiver crawl down her spine.  
No, he wasn't grinning. His dried-out lips had begun to shrink back and were exposing his teeth, she could even see his tongue, white and flaky, and it made her shudder. Any living being would have died long since of dehydration, but he was dead already, so he couldn't and was forced to endure this for all eternity.

A tear trickled down her cheek. No, for whatever she had wished for him – pest, syphilis or loss of hair – had wished with all her hate for him while hating herself for hating him so, this was something that no soul should endure. She ran a finger across his cheek, but no matter what she did, she could give him no comfort. Or could she? Seeing his cracked lips, she had licked her own in sheer sympathy. Could she...? She licked her lips again to moisten them thoroughly, then leaned over him, hesitating before she bend down.  
He opened his eyes. "No..." he said weakly. "Not again."  
"It's all right Jack", she whispered. "I'm trying to help you." Then she pressed her lips, moist and soft, on his that were so dry and rough. Just for a few seconds, and strangely enough, it invoked no feelings whatsoever. She leaned back and saw his tongue dart out between his lips.

She repeated the treatment, and when she leaned back again, she was surprised at how well it had worked, His lips, while still cracked and flaky, were not shrunken any more. Then she narrowed her brows. How could that have gone so fast? And yet... how could her blisters have healed so fast? It made her worry how much time had actually passed, but no matter how much time would pass, the amount of time they would have to stay here would not grow smaller.

She ran a hand across his cheek again and saw him open his eyes. He licked his lips again.  
"Better?", she whispered and he nodded, but seemed still unable to speak. Then his head slowly turned around and he managed to sit up.  
"Rain?", he asked in a hoarse whisper and Elizabeth looked around. But this time, she could hear it, too.

Elizabeth jumped up and ran out into the open. It _was_ raining! She hastily looked around for something to catch the water in, and, finding nothing, ran below deck, panic filling her at the thought of being too late. She found a bowl on a table and grabbed it, sprinting up the stairs again, the bowl in outstretched hands before her.

It was a downpour. She held the bowl before her and watched it being filled with water, being herself drenched to the skin. She laughed, looking across the deck where Jack just about had managed to labour to his feet. "Jack!", she yelled. "It's raining! It is really raining!" She saw his eyes widen and he slowly took two steps outside. He blinked when the raindrops hit his skin and turned his face upwards, but the moment he opened his lips to catch a few drops, the rain slackened and died off, disappearing as suddenly as it had come. Jack slowly toppled to his knees with a growling sound that made her shudder.

She blinked and stared at the bowl. No water was left around her, her clothes were drying already and no water had collected anywhere on deck. Nowhere, apart from the bowl that she was holding. "Jack", she whispered and walked over to him, careful not to spill a drop. "I have some water here."  
He opened his eyes, staring at her like a starving child would at his mother, knowing there is nothing to eat but despite all hopes hoping that she will give him something to ease the pain. She swallowed and knelt down before him. "Here, I have water", she whispered again and held the bowl out to him. He took it, but his hands were trembling so heavily that Elizabeth did not let go of the bowl. He slowly brought it to his lips, took a sip... and spat it out again with an agonizing scream.

Elizabeth stared at him in wide-eyed trepidation as he spat out a mouthful of grey ash. She reached out with one hand to touch the stuff and brought her fingertip to her lips. Dusty, salty ash. Jack slumped down again and buried his face in his hands with a low, drawn out moan. Elizabeth was too stunned to speak, horror clutching at her throat like a giant claw. But there was the water, there in the bowl... She dipped her hand in it and watched the drops fall down from her fingers.

Jack had fallen silent again and she looked up, realising that he, too, watched her hand as if the falling drops were hypnotizing him.

He probably couldn't help himself, yet Elizabeth felt strangely cold and embarrassed when he took her hand in his and brought one of her fingers to his lips. His face bespoke of his fear and expectation that the moment the drop would touch his lips, it would turn into salty ashes again, yet this time, it didn't. His eyes flew open in surprise and without being able to control himself, he licked the drops of water from her fingers and was begging for more. "Lizzie please", he rasped, staring at her beseechingly, absolutely beside himself.

She swallowed. He shouldn't beg, he should not humiliate himself like that...

She stared at his face and then at the bowl. "It's all right, Jack", she whispered and leaned forward, holding the bowl closer to his face. He stared at her imploringly with utter desolation in his eyes and her hand was trembling now, as well, as she cupped some water out of the bowl and carefully brought her hand to his lips. His fingers closed around her wrist as she did so, and still he was expecting the water to turn into ash any moment. Yet what passed his lips was nothing but water, sweet and cool, and it trickled down his parched and tortured throat like a cool and soothing blessing. A sound that was almost a whine escaped his lips when the water was gone.  
Feeling close to tears, Elizabeth cupped more water out of the bowl and let him drink it out of her hands. It felt so strange, it felt so wrong that he should beg like this, that he should suffer like this... but if she was able to do something about it, she would.

The bowl empty, she could do nothing more for him, but when he opened his eyes again, the life that had been gone from them before was back. His lips were still dry and cracked yet his tongue was no longer a strap of dried leather sticking to his mouth.  
"Thank you", he whispered with a smile of relief. "Thank you."  
"It's all right", she said, then remembered his own words and added "Anytime."  
He looked at her as if in thought, then he shrugged and crawled back into their little nest of wood and canvas beneath the main mast.  
"Isn't it strange", he murmured as she sat down beside him, "How we both had to endure our worst nightmare? And how we could... help each other out?"

She looked at him and suddenly felt the urge to be closer to him. She crawled over and laid down beside him, closing her eyes as his arms closed around her. Suddenly, no more words were needed. There was no sexual tension in the air, no feelings of desire or need, just the plain, simple comfort of a soul being close to yourself.

There was no one and nothing else but them and at this moment, nothing and no one else was important. As long as they were not alone, everything else was bearable.


	4. Dusk

As I said in the author's note to chapter one, I have altered the plot for AWE slightly. Yet I am not going to re-write the whole thing , just a few key-scenes. Key-scenes to my story, that is, not necessarily key-scenes to the movie.

And if this chapter might seem a bit fractured, that's because it is.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_**Dusk**_

It was not before the flimsy lean-to above them collapsed on them that they both realised the ship was rocking. Digging their way out of the canvas with several heavy curses on Jack's side and a few muttered one on Elizabeth's, they scrambled onto their feet again on deck, staring around them in astonishment. The ship was moving.

"How..." Jack muttered, running towards the port side railing and staring down.

And what he saw was the strangest tidal wave a sailor's eye would ever behold. Crabs.

A flood of tiny white crabs, as if the little creature that had led Elizabeth to the Pearl had suddenly multiplied by thousands to now lead them and the Black Pearl somewhere else again. How that was possible, that the ship would float on the bodies of thousands of small white crabs was something that Elizabeth could not fathom, but she forgot all about them the moment the Pearl suddenly tilted forward and slid down a dune.

For at that moment, the sea had come into view. Jack followed her gaze and his eyes lightened up as he drank in the vision that was laid out before him, the sea, gentle sloshing waves that lapped the shore and... "A wreck?"

"Elizabeth!" Her head jerked up at the sound of her name, but Jack just blinked, he hadn't said anything.  
"Jack!" They stared at each other, then Jack slowly turned around to stare past the starboard railing with slowly widening eyes.  
"We've got visitors, as it seems", he muttered. He exchanged a slow glance with Elizabeth and both of them could only shrug.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

"Four of you have tried to kill me. One of you succeeded." Jack looked over his shoulder. "Although she went down into the pit with me, so maybe that does not really count. So why should I trust you? Any of you?"

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

"Up is down..."

"What is he doing?"

"He's rocking her... he's rocking the ship!" Gibbs breathed, again just plain amazed at the thinking of a man he had known for so long but never learned to predict.

Up is down. Why had no one else been able to think of that? Maybe it was so crooked and just plain weird that it had to be a Jack Sparrow coming up with that solution. With a shake of his head, Gibbs gave the order to cut the cannons inside the hull loose from their holding lines.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

At first, it had seemed like one of those annoying, inexplicable Jack Sparrow things.

"What is that over there?"

"Or over there?"

She had been annoyed, then amused. But the moment he had run back and forth for the third time, she knew there was nothing to be seen he pretended to see but that he had something completely different on his mind. Yet what it was became clear only after she had heard Gibbs bellow the orders. Jack was rocking the ship... trying to capsize her.

Up is down...

She remembered the final tilt and how it had felt as the Pearl had slowly toppled over. Her hands had grabbed the railing, her legs dangling down above the unfathomable depths, breath trapped tightly between her lips. The murky green waters around her had swallowed every sound and sight. She had seen the one man succumb to the pull and fall, and suddenly she felt her own right hand slip. Trying to keep her hold, she tightened the grip on the railing only to loose the hold of her right hand completely. In her sudden stab of fear, precious air escaped her lips in a stream of silvery bubbles.

And the moment her left hand was about to loose its hold as well, another hand had closed itself around her left wrist in a hard and painful grip. Only for a moment, only as long as it took her to get her right hand at the railing again and secure her hold, and at that moment, the hand had been gone again.

She now sat gasping and dripping on the deck, clutching her left wrist that had been locked into a man's hand in a wrench that had almost broken her bones. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not remember whose hand it had been. She would like to think it had been Will. Her gentle lover, her fiancée, the man she had meant to marry. But when she finally moved her right hand away from her wrist to look at it, she could not deny that this wasn't the case. She could clearly see the imprints of the fingers around her wrist... as clearly as she could see the square and straight short lines in her flesh that the rings on these fingers had left.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

There was no welcoming hug, no happy and relieved lover's reunion. To be honest, Will hadn't known what to expect. To be perfectly honest, he hadn't expected at all to find her or Jack or anything apart from their own death, and hadn't it been for Elizabeth, he would have gone back to Port Royal to mourn her death and try and get to grips with his life again.

Yet the words of Tia Dalma and Barbossa had lashed him along, making him go down roads he would never have willingly or voluntarily walked, had brought him through fire and ice into this desolate hell only to find... Elizabeth.

And Jack, of course.

Elizabeth and Jack. And yet, he could clearly see, whatever had happened between them in his imagination, it hadn't happened. There were no stolen glances between them, no secretive smiles, no casual remarks about something he would never be privy to. There was nothing between them. Nothing... and everything.

He saw them work on the ship together, and wherever one needed a hand, the other would suddenly be there. And all this without ever a word. Since they had left the damn Locker, Jack and Elizabeth had not said a word to each other. Not words any other soul could hear, at least. There seemed to be a bubble of their own reality surrounding them, something that bound them together and kept everyone else out.

It would have been easier if they had kissed, Will realised. For if they had kissed, there had been some feeling, some sign that his Elizabeth was still there. But this... this was nothing he could do anything about. It was like fighting a fog.

Had they kissed and acted like lovers, he would have felt like he had been locked out of his own house. Yet he could have banged at the door, knocked at the windows, called and begged, and maybe make her open the door again for him. Maybe even enter the house again. But this...  
He simply didn't exist any more. Oh sure, she was friendly. She smiled at him. But he could not touch her any more, could not say any more than bare formalities or mere necessities. It was as frustrating as it was infuriating to him, and the fact that Jack didn't touch her or say anything meaningful to her made it, for some reason, only worse.

He had come back not to find himself locked out of the house, he had come back to find her gone and the whole house gone with her. There was nothing left. No knocking at the windows, no begging at the door, because there were neither windows nor a door any more.

And he realised that she had died. He had seen her die, had seen the kraken devour the ship and drag it underwater, had refused to believe it at first and then slowly come to accept it. Elizabeth was dead.  
And then came along these cursed pirates and witches and all the cursed brood, made him believe there was a way to undo things, to get them back, giving him hope and life again... only to have it shattered like this? How could he ever have believed them? Oh sure, they had got them back. But what had they got back precisely?

He watched her again; Elizabeth was standing at the bow, watching the waves that the Black Pearl parted with her keel in a shower of spray and foam. Jack was standing at the helm, parted from her by the whole length of the ship, and yet there still was this private bubble around them that kept them together and kept him out. They didn't even have to look at each other.

He almost, no, he more than wished that they would act like lovers, It was something he could have done anything about, he could have talked to her, fought for her...But this bond was one he could not sever. Not love, but something decidedly different and decidedly stronger. Two souls who had gone through hell together and emerged on the other side again. Together.

As Will now watched them embrace, he felt with utter bitterness that he didn't feel the pain any more. And they were not even kissing... they just embraced like friends, relieved to have escaped the most perilous of dangers. Gone through hell and back again... and now, in their world, there was no more room or thought for someone else. Why didn't they kiss? For if they did, if they only did, then he could step in and demand his right as the man whom she had betrothed herself to.

But they did not kiss. They did not even smile at each other. They broke their embrace and parted, and she went towards the bow to tie up some ropes and he went to the helm. None of the two gave the other a second look, but Will could not help but feel that they knew precisely where the other was.

He shot a long look at Jack. She had despised him. She had more than once told him how Jack had annoyed her, had upset her, had been driving her mad. If only he could talk to her again... maybe, just maybe he could make her see him again. Make her remember that it was him whom she had loved.

If something as feeble as love still existed in a soul like hers.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

It was a strange thing, Jack mused as he stood at the helm while watching the stars. A strange thing indeed how he suddenly did not want her any more. Or did he?  
He was not sure. He was sure he had wanted her, before. Had wanted her so much it had hurt sometimes. But he had blamed that on the fact that she had been the first woman ever to resist his charms for so long and had called up the hunt.

He remembered all those teasings, these vexing words and irritating gestures, on his part as well as on hers. But all these had, somehow, lost their meaning now. He still did want her. But not in his bed. Well, maybe in his bed... and maybe even naked. But the incredulous thought that hung in his mind was that if she came into his bed tonight wearing nothing but her skin, he would contentedly curl up beside her without so much as touch her other than laying an arm around her.

She did not stir anything in him anymore. She did not fan the flames of desire when she narrowed her eyes. Maybe because she was not narrowing her eyes any more. Maybe that was because he did not speak to her any more. Because she did not speak to him any more. Because it plainly just wasn't necessary any more.

Jack furrowed his brows. Was that what dying did to a man? Not wanting the woman he... wanted any more? A part of his mind registered how he had shied away from a word he had tried to avoid all his grown life and sneered, as the rest of him ignored that voice with the uneasy feeling of listening to someone who is right and knows it.

But what was... damn it... what was love in the face of death? He ran his hand across the wheel, caressing the spokes as if they were the fingers of his lover's hand.

Love overcomes death. That's what they always say. Love is stronger than death. His eyes fell on Will who was standing on deck, staring past the railing into the night.

Love overcomes death... but that only goes for the part who lives. For the part who dies, on the other hand... Well, he would lie if he said he hadn't seen Elizabeth look at Will. Or rather, not look at Will. And the way she did it, or rather, not did it, made it clear that death could overcome love easily enough. Had he not seem the two together with his own eyes he would have sworn there had never been anything between them. But there had. And it was no more. On her side, at least. And on his was something... the love and desire was burning in his eyes plain for anyone to see who cared to look. Yet even though, that feeling seemed not what it used to be, either.

Jack's grip tightened on the spokes again as he stared thoughtfully at his hands. It was clear that Elizabeth did not love Will any more like she used to. And it was clear that she did not love him, Jack Sparrow, any more than she had or had not before. Strangely enough, that didn't bother him. Even now, in the darkness of the night, he was absolutely sure she was standing at the bow and staring down into the bow wave. Not because he had watched her doing so constantly since they had got back into the land of the living. Just because he knew.

It was a strange feeling to have a soul so close to you without them being anywhere near. It was a strange bond that the time in the Locker had created between them, something like love and utterly unlike love, something that was comforting and disturbing at the same time.

It was comforting to know that if he would so much as catch a hair in a ring and rip it out, Elizabeth would turn her head to look at him in concern. As if she felt every pain that his body felt.

And it was disturbing that he knew that if she would carelessly touch the wood and draw a splinter, he would look up to find her eyes cast into his with the reassurance that it was a minor thing and nothing to be worried about.

But the strangest thing about all this feeling was the absence of all the emotional and sexual tension that all their encounters had held before. It was as if his body had decided that a bond of souls so closely woven would not require any physical component anymore. It was annoying. It was not annoying that this was the case. It was annoying how little he cared as long as she was around. He looked back at Will again, then let his eyes wander across the deck where he knew without seeing Elizabeth stood and at last rested his eyes on the wheel before him.

The table seemed to have been cleared, and the cards had been dealt anew.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

In the hubbub and heated discussion around the table, almost no one heard what had happened just now, that they suddenly had a king again. Jack's voice, uttering the words "Elizabeth Swann" had almost drowned in the sound, yet the noise after the brethren court had registered what he had said had drowned out anything else.

Their eyes met across the table and suddenly, Jack felt something stir inside him that he had believed to be dead but had only been sleeping. A tiny spark was ignited in his soul, lighting the flame of not more than a candle, but as he looked into Elizabeth's eyes, he saw it there, too. A spark. And more. There was something else, a fierceness, a wildness, the will to fight and cling to her freedom, and her eyes told him the story of how, this once, it would be better to fight to remain than to fight to run away.

"Prepare every vessel that floats."

She did not take her eyes of Jack and almost smiled. Tumbling head over heels into this role, a pirate lord and suddenly their queen, she realised that making this decision seemed ridiculously easy. There was no other way, and no one but her and Jack had seen it. Fight to remain, or just be extinguished like a candle flame between two moistened fingers.

He grinned at her, and that grin suddenly awoke the feelings that she had believed to be gone forever. Before, she had been put off by his attire and behaviour, but now she was one of them. No longer apart from them or him by worlds and beliefs, she suddenly could accept and see him as the man he was and choose to be.

Captain Jack Sparrow. A pirate. A pirate like her.

And Jack lifted his head and rested his eyes on her as if he had heard his name coming from her lips, as if she had shouted it across the room over the yelling, cursing and swearing of the brethren court.

Her mouth formed words that he could not hear, yet he could read them on her lips.

_Peas in a pod. _

Jack grinned, and Elizabeth smiled.

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

"Spoken, as if to a lover..."

"Ye say it wrong... ye're saying it wrong..."

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_

"They will see free men, fighting for their freedom!"

"Hoist the colours!"

_**o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o**_


	5. Midnight

_**Midnight**_

They were all but fighting a lost battle, and everyone knew it, yet no one thought of just throwing down their weapons.  
Elizabeth stood her ground in the fight, but she could feel herself grow tired and loose her speed with every passing minute. It was just too much, too many enemies, and the darkness of the storm around her seemed only a foreboding of a darkness much more frightening and final that was about to follow.

And then, suddenly, she realised that Jack was gone. She looked around for a second and almost missed the next thrust at her, barely managing to parry it with a screech of metal on metal as their blades locked. Yet the man fighting her had a long knife in his other hand which he now slashed at her face. With a scream, Elizabeth stumbled backwards and blindly slashed her sabre out before her, blinded by searing pain in her face and blood running into her eyes.

Sheer luck let her blade connect with the flesh of her opponent and she heard him scream a bloodcurdling wail that died in a series of spluttering coughs. Trying to blink the blood out of her eye, she realised that she had hit his throat. Swallowing but forcing herself to remain strong, she spun around to meet the next foe behind her only to realise in the last moment that it was Will.

"Elizabeth!", he screamed at her over the roaring noise of the storm, maelstrom and the battle. "Elizabeth! I love you! Will you marry me?"  
She blinked, not really believing her ears. "Are you mad? We're in the middle of a bloody battle! The end of this day will see the end of all of us! Have you lost your mind?"  
She spun around and parried the attack of another foe, slashing his belly open with a furious scream before spinning around again to look at Will.  
"Elizabeth! Now or never!", Will screamed. "Even if..."  
"No", she screamed back. "I will die today and I will die as Elizabeth Swann, Queen of pirates and not as Mrs William Turner!" Then she spun around, steaming with rage and trembling with fear, but her words had held nothing but the truth. Another man fell before her wrath and she knew it would only be a matter of time, a matter of when, not if, that she would spill out the last drops of her blood today on the wooden planks of the Black Pearl.

She was granted a short break to catch her breath, and suddenly something made her look up. She felt her breath trapped behind her lips when she saw what was happening in the rigging of the Flying Dutchman, when she saw and recognised the two men balancing precariously above the raging maelstrom fighting for a small chest

_Jack, _she thought,_ for god's sake don't fall. Drop the chest! I'll catch it!_

And Jack suddenly let go of the chest without so much as looking down for longer than a second. He had glanced down, seen her there and if not heard, must have felt her thoughts. Elizabeth jumped forward with a scream and just managed to lock her fingers around one handle before it would have vanished into the depths. With a thundering heart, she dragged the chest on board.

Breathing heavily she had a look around and saw that the first wave of the attack had slackened. Yet there was no forgetting the fleet of heavily armed ships that still were making their way towards them and from them, there was no escape other than being sucked into the maelstrom between them. The heavy thud of boots hitting the deck behind her made her spin around and she saw Jack, broken sabre in his hand, look hastily around as he let go of the rope. "Here", she called out and he grinned and hurried over. But before he could reach her, Elizabeth felt someone grab her literally by the scruff and haul her up. She was locked into an embrace, her back pressed against a man's chest and the cold muzzle of a pistol grazed her temple.

"Make yer choice now, Sparrow", she heard Barbossa snarl into her ear. "The heart for the wench. Only one of us will survive the day, and I'd like it to be me. Nothing personal, you understand..."  
Elizabeth tried to shake her head but the sound of the pistol being cocked turned her into stone. Jack glared at them, took a deep breath and, with a look into Elizabeth's eyes, gave the chest a vigorous kick that made it slide towards Barbossa. Then he leaned back and crossed his arms.  
"Well, thank thee kindly", Barbossa said and pushed Elizabeth away from him, gathered up the chest and made a few steps backward into the direction of the Flying Dutchman. "We might meet again", he said, and turned around, jumping the railing of the two ships.

Elizabeth stared after him and didn't look at Jack who was standing beside her. "Why did you do it?", she asked. "I am going to die anyway, but you could have lived."  
"I...", Jack began, but whatever he had meant to say died in a stertorous gasp of pain. Elizabeth spun around to see Davy Jones stand behind him, and the blade of Jones' sabre protruded from Jack's lower belly.  
"Now you can die both", the creature said in a complacent sneer as Jack slowly sank down to his knees, gasping for air as Jones pulled his sabre out of his guts again. Elizabeth was frozen in horror as she stared first at Jack and then at Jones whose blade hovered before her, slowly, menacingly, and bright red with Jack's blood.

_So this is where it will end. _

Elizabeth thrust out her chin. "Well, finish me off", she said. "I'm neither going to cower nor beg for mercy."  
"Impressive", Jones snarled. "But not impressive enough to stop me."  
Elizabeth braced herself and took a final breath, wishing she could have looked at Jack again one last time. She could have knelt down beside him but she was determined to die on her feet. Jones grinned and lifted his blade, only to suddenly drop it with a gasp.  
"No..." he muttered and stumbled a few steps backward. "No... NO!", then he walked into the railing and with an unearthly scream, toppled over and fell, down into the endless maw of the maelstrom that still had the Dutchman and the Pearl trapped between it's jaws.

And with Jones' last wail dying off in the darkness, the maelstrom suddenly began to grow.

"Get us out of here, Master Gibbs!", Elizabeth screamed to make herself heard over the raging howls and roaring waters. Then she slowly knelt down beside Jack who was still upright, but pale as a shroud. A large blotch of blood had spread out on the front of his shirt. She grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling over as the ship suddenly tilted sideways. With a scream of wood and taut sails and ropes, the Pearl almost capsized but was suddenly free from the pull of the maelstrom. But the danger was far from over. They had to get more distance between it and the ship, and it was still growing.

Carefully, Elizabeth took Jack by the shoulders and rested his upper body against the main mast. "Stay there", she said. "And by god, if you die before I'm back, I'll come after you and kill you again, Jack Sparrow!"  
He fluttered his eyelids and managed a weak and lopsided grin. "Aye Captain", he muttered and closed his eyes again. Elizabeth ran a hand across his cheek and let it rest there for a second before she jumped up and raced across the deck towards the helm.  
"Retreat!", she screamed. "Draw back! Retreat!!" Men sprang into action as her voice lashed at them like a whip.

The Pearl tackled the current and turned, and slowly, the rest of the pirate fleet that was able to followed their lead and set full canvas to get away from the maelstrom that now was so large that it could have swallowed the whole lot of them.

With a growing sense of dread, Elizabeth realised that this was almost precisely what was happening. The maelstrom was slowly sucking in the first ships of the navy fleet who had been unlucky enough to be too close to it. It was still growing, the roaring and thundering of the waters so loud they were almost inaudible. About half the navy fleet vanished, eerie it was to watch them disappear so silently due to the maelstrom drowning out any other sound, before the others were able to get into motion fast enough to escape the maw of death behind them.

As Elizabeth saw the last sails vanish into the fog at the horizon, the maelstrom before them slowly collapsed. The last waves rocked the ship and the sea fell silent, the heavy stillness around them as deafening as the roaring thunder before.

It took them all a while until the realisation trickled into their stupefied brains that they had survived. The navy was gone but their own ships were still intact, and while they had to mourn heavy losses, they had won their prize. The death of comrades and friends had paid for the lives and the freedom of those men and women that were now staring at the horizon, realising that there still was a tomorrow.  
A tomorrow. A tomorrow with hopes and dread, a tomorrow with lives and deaths, a tomorrow with good or bad luck, with happiness and sorrow. A tomorrow. Life.  
And their freedom. For this time, they had won their freedom and had kept the upper hand, and Elizabeth blamed none of the men for screaming and throwing his hat, for dancing around and embracing hated enemies of before like long lost friends.

They had not run. They had fought, and they would remain.

In between the celebrating mass of men, Elizabeth slowly sank down to her knees beside Jack who leaned against the main mast, worryingly still and pale. "Jack?"  
He opened his eyes. "Gut wound", he muttered. "Not good. Painful."  
Elizabeth took his hand and saw someone else kneel beside her. Gibbs looked first at her and then, with a mournful expression, down at Jack.  
"Ye're still alive though, Cap'n. I've seen men live through worse than that."  
"Oh aye", Jack mumbled weakly. "But is it really worth it?"  
"Open yer eyes, Jack, and ask ye that again", Gibbs said gently and stood up again. Elizabeth watched him go, wondering what he had meant, but when she looked at Jack again she saw he was looking at her. With a tiny smile on his lips.

She was about to smile back when the crew around them suddenly fell silent. Elizabeth lifted her head to look around and then saw the Flying Dutchman, freshly emerged from the waves and still dripping, lying alongside the Pearl. Something cold crawled down her spine as she registered the heavy steps sounding behind her. She turned her head to see Barbossa towering over her, his shirt still open and a thick, dark red scar grazing the left side of his chest. Yet he ignored her and went down into a crouch beside Jack.

"Tell me, Jack Sparrow", he said in a low voice, and Jack opened his eyes to glare at his former first mate. "Do you fear death?"

Jack stared at Barbossa, narrowed his eyes and turned his head. Elizabeth saw him smile at her before he looked at Barbossa again. "Been there, done that", Jack muttered. "Got the scars. No. Go away."  
"As ye wish", Barbossa said and got up again. "I trust we will meet again someday", he said amicably to Elizabeth before sweeping off his hat with an elegant bow. "Your majesty." With slow, conscious steps Barbossa walked across the deck towards his own ship and Elizabeth hadn't realised she had held her breath until it escaped in a heavy huff when the Flying Dutchman had submerged again. She looked back at Jack.

"Jack?" She ran a hand across his face, brushing some hairs away that clung to his cheek. "Look at me, Jack."  
He opened his eyes a slit and tried to smile. "I'm dying", he said.  
"Belay that", Elizabeth snarled at him. "Don't ye dare die on me after we've finally won that bloody scratch."

Jack smiled slightly at the expression she had used, seemingly oblivious of her beginning to use piratey lingo, but then his eyes flew open in surprise when she suddenly reached for his sash and pulled out one of his pistols. She cocked it with a grim smile and, to everyone's and especially Jack's horror, held it to her own temple. "And if you do", Elizabeth went on in a threatening voice. "I'll follow you. You'll not dare ignore the orders of your queen, Jack Sparrow."

Jack blinked. "...uh..."  
"Wrong answer, Jack."  
"Eh... Aye, Captain Swann. Dying... belayed." He tried to grin but faltered, and Elizabeth let the pistol sink down and dropped it into her lap. "Good man", she said and slowly got up. "Get him into his cabin and get some water boiling, and be quick about it, you lazy scallywags!"

And to her utter satisfaction, the men started hustling around, trying to get away from her wrath. The pirate queen who could order men not to die was something not to be crossed, especially when she was walking around with a loaded and cocked pistol in her hand. "Take the helm, Master Gibbs", Elizabeth yelled. "And head for Shipwreck Island!"  
"Aye, Captain!"

"Elizabeth...?"  
At the sound of Will's voice, she slowly turned around. "Will?"  
"Elizabeth... I just wanted to say... I meant what I said in the battle. I do love you and..." He broke off as he saw Elizabeth's face. "Elizabeth I mean it!"  
She gave him a sad smile. "I know you do", she said and turned around, vanishing below deck to tend Jack's wounds, leaving Will to stare after her with the feeling that he should never have said these words again to her.


	6. Tomorrow

_**Tomorrow**_

The Black Pear finally reached Tortuga again on a flawless, sunny day some two months later. Jack was just about recovered enough to spend some time at the helm each day and felt more alive than he was ever before. With the threat of Jones, the kraken and the Locker gone, life seemed easy and simple enough.

Take what you can and give nothing back.

He had brought Will and Elizabeth to Tortuga and from there on they could get themselves a passage to Port Royal. Yet something was deeply disturbing him, something he could not quite name. Something that made him linger on deck, arms propped onto the railing as he watched them standing on the pier.

"It's going to be good to be home again", Will said with a smile. "Don't you think?"  
Elizabeth slowly furrowed her brow. "I don't really know, Will. What home, exactly? The governor's house? He is dead, so is his daughter. What else is there for me?"  
"My house", Will blurted out, hating himself for it the same instant, yet he could not help but try it, over and over again. "Elizabeth", he said gently, taking one of her hands in his. "I know you do not feel for me what yo used to, but my love for you has not changed. Come with me, and I will give you a home, and you will never have to fear or lack anything, I swear."

She looked at him, into his warm, loving, beautiful eyes, a trace of sorrow flickering across her face at the memory of the feelings these eyes had evoked.

Never to fear anything. Never to lack anything. Be with him, which was what she had wanted for so long she couldn't remember when it began. But she could very well remember when it had ended. It had ended as the lovely governor's daughter had died, killed by a creature sprung from a sailor's nightmare.

And what else was there? Was there something else? Was there something at all? Was the prospect of living with a man she did not love anymore for the rest of her life in a small and tidy house a prospect at all? She absentmindedly touched her cheek and sighed. Not to fear anything anymore...

"Elizabeth", Will said gently. "I am sorry about your face. But honestly, it doesn't bother me. I swear. You are still the most beautiful woman to me."

She knew he lied. Maybe he didn't know it, but she knew it. The way he winced whenever his eyes fell on that red scar that grazed her left cheek from the bridge of her nose to the corner of her jaw told her what he really thought. Maybe, in another life, she would have believed him and would have been happy about these words because they had been the right ones. But not so any more. They were wrong, not only due to the fact that they were lies. But as to why that was, she couldn't even say.

But what was left to her? There was no way in front of her... and there was no way back.  
"Elizabeth?"  
Or was there...?  
She turned around. Jack stood behind her on the pier, one hand outstretched, his face absolutely motionless and empty of feelings. She looked at him, at his hand, and at the ship behind him, rocking gently on the surf. She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Jack, and turned around again to find Will standing there, hand outstretched as well.

"Elizabeth, let us go home", he said.

She turned around again, looking back at Jack who said nothing.  
"Elizabeth, let's go home", Will repeated and she took a deep breath.  
"Jack, are you sorry about my face as well?", she asked, making him blink in confusion. "Your face?"  
"The scar."  
Jack slowly lifted his eyebrows and twisted his face into a lopsided, golden grin as his eyes flicked past her to rest on Will for a couple of seconds before looking at her face again. "We all bear the scars of our battles, and I certainly won't hold yours against you. You should bear them proudly, for the day you took these scars was the day that saved us all, our lives and our souls. Why should I be sorry?" He crossed his arms. "If anything, Elizabeth, it makes you all the more beautiful, for it shows your spirit and strength and courage to the world."

Elizabeth swallowed and turned around again to see Will slowly drop his hand. He had meant to say something but now slowly closed his mouth. She sighed and turned to look at Jack again. "There's a home", the pirate said. "And there..." He took a step aside and flicked his arm past the pier, his ship and the harbour, resting it reaching for the open sea beyond the bay. "There is the world, your majesty. All yours for the taking."

And at these words, Elizabeth finally felt a smile spread on her lips and she hurried across the pier to meet Jack walking up to her. She fell into his embrace, locked her eyes in his and felt her heart suddenly beat faster the way he smiled down at her.  
"I kissed you to kill you", she whispered. "Kiss me to make me live."  
"Anytime, luv", Jack said and kissed her, slinging his arms around her neck and back.

Within two heartbeats, the world turned. All the hidden, sleeping feelings suddenly awoke with the kiss, all the attraction, all the desire, the magnetism and the greed swept over them like a wave, making them cling to each other as if they could simply melt into each other and become one. Elizabeth broke free form the kiss only because she was beginning to feel faint from the lack of air.

She looked at him, her hands on his cheek, and suddenly, a laugh burst free out of her chest and she had no more means of holding it back than she could have killed herself with holding her breath. Jack saw this and smiled, but seeing her laugh like that, Jack had to laugh as well, and pulling her close, his eyes fell on Will again who stood lost and forlorn at the other end of the pier.

Elizabeth sensed this and slowly turned around, standing next to Jack as she looked at Will, Jacks arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist. Then she shrugged and they both turned to walk down the pier towards the Pearl. Shortly before they reached the plank, Elizabeth turned her head again. "I'm sorry Will", she called. "It never would have worked between us."


End file.
